One Percent
by Whedonist
Summary: A hot summer night and a dead body, things are pretty normal for our girls.
1. The Scum

Disclaimer: Not mine. These ladies and some of the other characters belong to Nancylee Myatt and Co.

Fandom: Nikki & Nora

Pairing: Nikki/Nora

Rating: PG13—R

Summary: A hot summer night and a dead body, things are pretty normal for our girls.

* * *

One Percent

_Opening_

_The night is raucous; alive with the sound of music spilling out of the bars that line St. Peter Street. It is warm and sticky, but a breeze cuts through the grid of streets that make up the Quarter. It makes the night tolerable, even with the mass of moving bodies. Laughter up ahead pulls the young man's attention away from the phone in his hand. He quickly surveys what's happening around him. A group of girls dressed in short skirts, impossibly high heels, and variations on halter tops lean into each other as they stop at the corner of the street. _

_The phone is slipped into his back, right pocket before he runs his hands through his stringy, strip of brown hair on the top of his head. Sweat drips from his temples and the back of his neck, rolling down his face and back. The sweat makes the heat and grim acute, causing him to feel that much more soiled than he was a few seconds ago. Some of the sweat's already soaked into the collar of his thin, cotton button up, staining the collar a deeper blue. _

_The footsteps echo around him. People pass him, glancing off his shoulders in a way that becomes numbing. It's one of the many hazards of living in any city and also of being down in the Quarter on a Saturday night. Squaring his shoulders as he nears the intersection, anxious to get to MacCailin's on the next block. _

_Stopping with the others moving his way, he shifts his weight from left to right waiting on the flow of traffic to change in their favor. A small mass of people surround him, looking to move on, just like him, eager to get to the next stop tonight. The cars going against them barely come to a stop as he readies himself to move forward. _

_The surge of bodies around him causes his foot to rise as he takes his first step. The sting in his back barely registers as his foot plants itself on the warm concrete. He stops, getting slightly jostled as bodies move around him, anchored to the spot as another sting, rips along his right side. Another one goes deeper; instead of the grunt or whimper of pain, bitter, coppery warmth fills his mouth. An unnatural chills sweeps over him, instantly cooling the slick sweat he was used to. He coughs and dark spittle flies from his lips. It spatters itself on the back of a woman in a white tank top. The red dots spread a little as the fabric soaks them up. _

_As he drops to his knees, the screams are distant, faint. The pain begins to ebb and he grows warm. Falling to his side, the concrete's a bit damp. A few puddles reflect back the colorful lighting. His lips press together and his eyes flutter closed. His breathing brings in the scent of the street, dirty and soiled, before it slows and stops._

* * *

_I—The Scum_

The lamp against the far wall of the small, dingy hotel room provided the only light when Nikki let the right side of the thick, polyester curtain fall shut. The faded, robin egg blue material thumped against the window sill and let loose a bouquet of stale cigarette smoke and cheap air freshener. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her partner for the night settle on a similarly colored bedspread. The bed's springs protested under the weight and it was no mystery that it had seen far better days.

"They're on their way up," she informed the man she'd first been partnered with years ago. "Ready?" she asked as she pulled her gun free of its holster to check before they were needed in the adjoining room. She flicked the safety off and holstered the gun as Ron stood and nodded.

"Still having a hard time with why you let your partner out there?" Ron snapped his gum and finally asked what had been on his mind all night. He knew Nikki had done stings like this before. He'd been with her on the first two jobs. Nora, his old partner's new one, hadn't, at least as far as he was able to put together. Of course, it wasn't that long ago that he and Nikki reconnected. Nikki'd changed. He had to.

She gave him no response as her hand rested on her gun. She neared the door to the adjoining room and looked back at him, a thin manicured eyebrow rose as he came up behind her. She was first in this round. They'd taken turns tonight, much to his annoyance. He hated sending in anyone smaller first.

"Don't," Nikki hissed.

"I wasn't…" Ron tried to defend himself.

"Bullshit," Nikki bit off. "It's my partner in the other room. Act right, Baird."

His lips pursed, but took the order for what it was and squared his shoulders, waiting with her for the signal. He and Nikki pressed the ear buds deeper, waiting. No one wanted risk a wire in the field, so they'd bugged the room they were using for the stings.

It took longer than expected to for the door to open and Nora's voice sounded in their ear. He watched Nikki's shoulders drop slightly, before rising again as she pulled her gun free again and put her hand the door knob.

He listened as Nora baited the man in the room with her. It didn't take long for him to offer payment to the detective next door. It took the blink of an eye for Nikki to push open the door and raise her gun with him close on her heels.

They both stopped short to watch as Nora pressed the heel of her four-inch heels into the john's throat to silence his protests. Ron holstered his gun and moved around Nikki to flip the guy on his back and cuff him. "Mike Foxtrot Hotel, we are clear in two-twenty-eight," Ron barked into the mic at his wrist and then read the collar his Miranda rights.

"Good?" Nikki asked her partner who was straightening out the purple, mesh miniskirt. Nikki gave the outfit her partner had on a hundredth look that night, from the tips of the peep toe, glittery, starred heels, over the thigh-highs with exposed garters, miniskirt, and sequined, gold tube top. The hair and make-up were different things all together, the mussed hair and heavy eye shadow. Nikki shook her head and tried to hide the smile at her partner from everyone in the room.

Nora nodded and asked, "That makes three. We're done, right?"

Two officers in grungy jeans and dingy, faded t-shirts walked through the room's main door before Nora had a chance to respond. Ron, not missing a beat, handed off their collar and responded to the question, "We are. Good work tonight, ladies."

As the other three left, Ron shut the door and turned back to the duo. "Go get changed while we strip the room," he directed and moved to the antennae on top of the T.V. where the lone bug was hidden.

Nora didn't need to be told twice. She headed for the bathroom and Nikki watched her go.

Ron pulled the bug from the back of the antennae and grumped, "Beaumont, put your goddamn tongue away and you didn't answer my question."

Shaking her head, Nikki looked towards Ron. "I thought seeing her would answer it for me."

The brunette's eyebrows wiggled briefly before Nora's protest could be heard behind the thin bathroom door, "I heard that, Nikki!"

Ron snickered , "Dumbass."

* * *

"He pissed on my clothes!" Nora shouted as she slammed the driver's door of her car. The action garnered the look of several uniforms and a tech or two as they approached the crime scene.

Nikki hid her smile with the back of her left hand while using her right to flash her badge at the uniform holding up the crime scene tape.

"I liked that shirt and those jeans…" Nora continued to whine behind her. Nikki did feel bad. Those jeans did hug her lover in all the right spots, but when Nikki kindly offered to bag them and have them dry cleaned, Nora's indignant rage grew tenfold. Nikki promptly shut her mouth and let her partner rage.

The upside to it all was that on their way home, Nora still looking like she was ready to work a corner, a call had come in that sent them out to the Quarter.

"Hey, Delaney, how much?" David Keenan from C.S.U. barked and took another picture of their approach.

"Go back to photographing the dead, David," Nikki warned. "She's liable to shoot you in front of anyone and I don't want to have to deal with the paperwork if it happens."

"Fuck off," Nora grumbled and brushed against him, adding a little more force with her shoulder when she connected. Nikki laughed as he stumbled and nearly landed on his butt.

There was a round of laughter from the crew that surrounded them, but Charlie's wide eyed, open mouthed gape had Nikki in stitches. Her fit of laughter got her a smack to the shoulder and a low growl, "Both of you, shut the hell up."

"Didn't say a word," Charlie mumbled and went back to scribbling on his clipboard.

"Who's the unlucky man ruining a night of debauchery for the tourists?" Nikki squatted down and looked over the body. The man was lying on his stomach, arms jutted out, and raised above his head. The blue shirt he had on was stained a dark crimson.

"No I.D." Charlie stated. "I'll run prints when I get back. For right now, he's Mr. Doe."

"Took a shot in each lung and one in the kidney," Nora surmised from her standing position next to Nikki.

"Come on down and have a closer look," the brunette detective suggested right before blocking the half-hearted kick from the blonde. "You wound me, sug."

"Stuff it, Beaumont," Nora growled again.

"Now, ladies, no need to reduce yourselves to a wrestling match on my account. Give me a few minutes, I'm sure I can drum up a large enough audience and charge a decent admissions price," Charlie suggested, wiggling his eyebrows as they both glared. "But, you'd be right, Nora. Stabbed in each lung and the kidney."

"Are you going straight back to work on him?" Nikki asked, standing up and wincing as her knees popped on her way up.

"Nope. Ice." Charlie scratched at his forehead while he answered. "As you can see," he indicated to the stripped pajama bottoms and thin grey t-shirt he had on, "I wasn't really working when the call came in."

"The shoes are a nice touch," Nora snickered at the mismatched pair he wore. "Have to admit the one dress shoe and the one sneaker make it sort of classy."

"Those in glass houses, Nora, should not throw those stones," Charlie warned as he waved an arm at her attire. "What were you two getting up to?"

"Sting operation with my old partner," Nikki explained. "Nora wanted to see how it felt working the other side of the law."

"Everything you hoped it'd be?" Charlie grinned.

"You have no idea, Ophoven, no idea." Nora replied and clapped him on the shoulder. "We should go talk to the first responding team and start taking in interviews."

Nikki nodded and scanned the crowd. "Seems like our night just got a bit longer."


	2. City Slum

**_II. City Slum_**

"Nora," Nikki grumbled against warm skin as she prodded her lover's bare hip. "Gettup. Door." Her eye cracked open as the weight on the bed shifted and Nora fumbled at her lover's request. She buried her head into the freshly vacated pillow in an attempt to block out the light that seeped around the heavy, light green curtains. Nikki would have gotten up to answer the door, but they ended up back at Nora's. It only served the blonde right.

Nora rubbed at her eyes; her hand slid down her face and pinched her chin, trying to brush away the gauzy web of sleep. She stood and reached for a shirt sitting next to the dirty clothes hamper and a pair of jeans puddled next to it. She casted a quick glance back at the bed; Nikki had already rolled over to expose her bare back to the room and snuggled into the warm spot she'd just left. Sighing, Nora ran her hand through her hair and padded out to the living room.

"Coming," she called out to whoever was breaking up the sorely needed sleep she'd been trying to catch up on. After Ron and the murder, they had managed a shower, left a message for Dan, and then crawled into bed shortly before five a.m. As she passed by the kitchen, Nora glanced at the clock on the microwave, it was barely eight.

"Nora," Charlie called out from the hallway behind the door.

"Yeah," Nora grunted and flipped the lock on the dead bolt. She swung the door open and propped herself in its frame. "This better be good," she mumbled through a yawn, covering her mouth to prevent blasting Charlie with morning breath.

"I thought you'd be at your desk this morning." Charlie smiled a bit sheepish. "I swung by, Dan said you'd be home."

"Where's the fire?" Nora asked, relenting and finally letting him passed the threshold and into the kitchen.

Charlie shuffled towards the kitchen and plopped down at the small table resting against the right wall. Nora went immediately to the coffee maker and pulled out the requisite paper filter and canister of grinds. She flipped the lid and plopped the filter in place. "What's up?" she asked over her shoulder as she measured out the coffee.

"Like I said," Charlie finally spoke, "I thought you'd have been at work by now. I got an I.D. on your vic from this morning."

She turned towards him just in time to see a brown file folder plop on to the table, the M.E.'s office seal printed in the center. The file was thicker than she expected. Usually, I.D. reports came back thin with the two or three top sheets identifying the vic. The rest was medical speak that Nora never cared much to learn. The one Charlie plopped down held enough to be about a quarter inch thick.

She let her curiosity simmer in deference to getting some type of caffeine in her system. She turned back to the maker and grabbed the carafe, started the cold tap and filled it to appropriate levels. Pouring the water into the reservoir, she closed the lid, replaced the carafe, and hit the start button before sitting down in the chair across from her friend.

He nudged the folder toward her and she flipped it open. The first thing she saw was a mug shot of their vic. She glanced at the basics: twenty-two years old, Caucasian male, five-foot-ten, one-hundred-eighty-three pounds, medium length brown hair and brown eyes. Below the basics were what held the items of interest.

Block lettering told her that he was part of a small time gang out of the Seventh Ward, the Bokoo Boys. She racked her brain trying to recall more than the blurb that she'd read about them in a briefing ages ago. Bokoo was a small group of tight-knit, neighborhood boys, some older now, that stuck to theft, assault, and armed robbery. Really, calling them organized enough to be a gang was stretching the legal definition. Everything she recalled never spoke to murder or even pissing off any rival groups. Especially, enough for anybody they could consider a rival wanting to murder one of them.

She flipped the first page and inhaled the aroma of brewing coffee, feeling slightly more alert at the scent. The second page held the cause of death, asphyxiation, not really a surprise as the report indicated he drowned in his own blood. There was a list of one residence and the next of kin was listed at the same address. Charlie had done a fair bit of work for them. Nora flipped to the next page and realized that she was looking at the vic's, Michael DeSalvo, R.A.P. Sheet.

She closed the folder and tossed it on to the table. "Coffee?" she asked and stood.

"I was gonna go," Charlie stood to leave as he answered, "I just wanted to get that to you, but you should go back to sleep a bi…" his words trailed off as Nikki shuffled into view. He looked the brunette over with her closed eyes, messy hair, white tank top, and blue panties. His cheeks reddened as he went to stare at her bare feet and purple painted toe nails.

"Baby," Nikki shuffled up to Nora, not noticing Charlie, "No coffee. Bed." The cup in Nora's hand hit the counter top as she spun around and lost her voice.

The noise did enough to make Nikki open her eyes as Charlie found the sense to make himself known and cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he tried, "I…"

Looking back over her shoulder, Nikki's mouth dropped open as she registered the site of their M.E. "Oh, shit."

* * *

The El Camino idled at the curb of Fifteen-Eighty-One North Dorgenois Street as Nikki played with the ring on her right thumb. It spun around the appendage as Nora's grip tightened along the steering wheel. Nikki suppressed her first inclination, saying something to get her in trouble, her second, saying something to make Nora's mood worse, and her third, a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes. She opted instead to keep quiet. She opted instead to unbuckle her seat belt and make her way outside to the curb. Sometimes, being with Nora, Nikki'd learned it was better to just keep her mouth shut and let her stay in her piss poor mood.

From her new position, she watched Nora stare ahead and couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her lover's very busy, very stubborn head. Charlie seemed to take the revelation of their relationship well. He had even extended an invite to dinner over the weekend, which Nikki promptly accepted as Nora stormed from the kitchen. The only real problem was Nora just hadn't said a word to her since then.

The engine shut down and Nora climbed from the vehicle. Nikki squared her shoulders and Nora met her on the sidewalk. It was time to quiet and lock away the personal aspects of their life. A young man had been murdered last night and as Nora finally spoke, she at least acknowledged that, "We're here for Bonnie or Curtis DeSalvo. This has been the vic's address since he was twelve."

"We have anything else on the parents?" Nikki asked to Nora's back as she started up the driveway. She looked past her partner's shoulder and saw the tail end of a truck sticking out behind the back of the house.

"Nope," Nora answered as she approached the truck and continued, "this, though, this is a 'Sixty-nine Chevy C10." The admiration in Nora's voice was clear, not near enough to be considered a slight against her precious June Lee, but Nora did have a thing for cars older than her. Nikki watched on amused as her partner slid her right hand along the shiny, black paint of the bed.

"Hey!" a deep voice shouted right before the springs on the rusty back porch door protested. Nora's hand fell from the truck as a tall, broad shouldered African-American stepped outside. With the hood of the truck open and the black grease marring the otherwise pristine A-shirt stretched across the man's muscular frame, Nikki figured touching the truck was probably a bad idea.

"Sorry," Nora apologized and took the lead in the introductions, "I'm Det. Nora Delaney and this is my partner, Det. Nikki Beaumont. We're looking for Mr. or Mrs. DeSalvo."

"DeSalvo...?" The man's face soured at the name and slowly, it relaxed, "Y'all lookin' for Tard?"

"Tard?" Nikki piped up needing something more.

"Tard, Mike..." the man rolled his eyes and clomped down the steps. "That's Mike's last name, DeSalvo. We all just call him 'Tard' on account of him being a few eggs short of a dozen. What the hell'd he get into now?"

Nikki recovered a little bit ahead of Nora and said, "We have this address listed as Mr. DeSalvo's home address since the age of twelve."

"You would. He's been living here since he was ten," the man snapped. "You two want to tell me what the fuck's going on?" The muscles along his jaw bunched and a vein in his neck popped and throbbed.

The detectives exchanged a look before answering the man's question, "Mr...?"

"None of your fucking business 'till you answer my question," he snapped and replanted his feet.

The message clear, Nora rubbed the back of her neck, delivering this type of news was one of the worst parts of the job. Over time, the Band-Aid method was the best. "Michael was stabbed last night in the Quarter. I'm afraid he was pronounced dead at the scene."

In testament to the man's brick like build, the news caused only the briefest flash of pain, like a bullet ricocheting off stone, he flinched, but stayed quiet for a moment before evenly asking, "You catch the killer?"

The two women shook their heads. "Do you know why he was down in the quarter last night?" Nikki asked.

The man shook his head. "Nope. Know shit about shit."

Another look was exchanged between the women. This time Nikki's back straightened using the bit of height she had over Nora and what the heeled boots she had on to her advantage. "I understand this is a lot to take in, but any information you have could be useful to our investigation. Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated."

"And I ain't got nothin' to say. You ain't gonna find shit around here. Tard went and did some stupid shit and got his-self popped. Ain't the first person to do it. Won't be the last." The man began to walk towards the open hood of the car, declaring the impromptu meeting over.

"We'd like to see his room," Nora tried.

"Fuck off and come back with a warrant if you want in my house," the man muttered from under the hood.

Knowing it was definitely time to throw in the towel for now, Nora turned first and started down the drive way. Nikki stood a moment more, tempted to try one more time, but a softly called, "Nikki," caused her turn and follow Nora back to the car.

They slipped into June Lee together. Nora looked at her, cranking the engine over and asking, "Now where?"

Nikki shrugged. "We'll start with the usual paper trails. See if we can see anything there."

Nora tilted her head and asked, "It bug you as much as it bugs me that nothing on DeSalvo was taken?"

Nikki's fingers drummed along her thigh, choosing her words carefully before giving the idea churning in her head voice. "I think that if it was anything else than a calculated hit, it would have been messier. That was a prison style hit. Swift, precise, and as clean as it can be considering. DeSalvo pissed the wrong someone off."

"So, back to the precinct then? We should have an A.D.A. start on a warrant for a search," Nora offered.

Nikki bit her lip and wondered, "You think there's going to be anything in that place when we get back here with a warrant?"


End file.
